The Night of the Hunter
by januarys
Summary: Noel commits this moment to memory, from the beating of the drums to the proximity between Hope and himself. — NoelHope


**The Night of the Hunter **(Noel/Hope)

PG | 1773

_Adult themes,_ Noel commits this moment to memory, from the beating of the drums to the proximity between Hope and himself.

* * *

_Yaschas Massif –1XAF-_

* * *

The sound of drums greets the trio as they step foot inside the Paddra Ruins.

Night has fallen onto Pulse. The only source of light comes from a large bonfire that rages a few feet from the access ramp, sparks rising into the sky. The scientists that reside among the ruins are dispersed around the flames; a small group dedicate themselves to the rhythm of the drums, a select few to the beat, laughter in the air.

Mog squeaks, a familiar 'Kupo!' between Serah and Noel, and he whizzes forward to the drum players. Serah's laughter twinkles throughout the air as she rushes to join him. Noel stays back. Memories of his childhood. His early teens. Weeks before this journey began. They flood his mind and-

He misses his home, just for a moment.

A strong hand comes to rest on his shoulder, footsteps to his side. He looks up to see Hope beside him, a warm smile on his face. Noel feels the tension ease away.

"Glad the three of you were able to make it," Hope says, voice slightly raised due to the drums, "we were hoping you would come along."

Noel manages a smile. "This is bringing back a lot. Back where I come from gatherings like this were common. Right down to the drums as well."

"This is more of a celebration as opposed to a gathering." Hope lets his hand fall to his side, Noel tries not to notice. "The team unearthed some new ruins just a few miles north of here. I figured it was high time to blow off some steam."

He glances to the fire, catches Serah who twirls with Mog in her arms, Alyssa watching them with a drink in hand, before he looks back at Noel, bemused smile on his lips. The hunter takes note of his less than polished appearance, from an unbuttoned jacket to an askew tie, and thinks the young Director looks rather endearing.

Noel catches Hope's eyes for a moment, thinks he could get lost in them, and chuckles. "Sounds like a plan, Director."

He saunters off to where Serah and Mog twirl, uses every ounce of willpower to not look behind him.

* * *

_The Dying World -700AF-_

* * *

_Noel remembers a roaring fire on a cold night in The Dying World. Yeul gripping his hand, Caius beating a drum. The three of them alone on an endless plain._

_The melody flowed through him. He swung Yeul around, her squeals of joy piercing the air, a content smile on Caius' lips. Remembers allowing his instinct to take over, his body moving to each pound of the drum, sweat beading on his brow and neck as he jumped over the flames. Sandals digging into the ashen dirt, a cloud of time weary dust surrounding them._

_He met Yeul's eyes across the flames. Her face split into a joyous smile. She twirled towards him, long hair whipping gracefully over her shoulders, and she fell into his arms from vertigo. Noel cradles her body to his own, spins her around the flames, around Caius._

_Noel remembers the drum echoing into the night, Yeul's happiness, Caius' contentment._

_Home._

* * *

_Yaschas Massif -1XAF-_

* * *

The hours pass, the drums still continue. Noel moves with Serah around the flames. Mog apart of the orchestra of drums. Laughter fills the air, the stars shine bright above the ruins.

Serah spins towards him. He grabs her around the waist, just like he had done with Yeul. A shriek of protest fills his ears, and he spins her around. She squirms half-heartedly within his grasp. Noel brings her down to solid ground gently. His heart pounds to the beat of the drums. Sweat drips from his brow, down his face, to the hem of his shirt.

Serah clutches his wrist. "You move like you do in battle, Noel. It's amazing." Her face is flushed from the energy expended, drinks that a researcher forced onto them, the flames that crackle beside them. Noel grins at her, feels a thousand feet above the ground, feels Pulse move beneath his feet.

He runs a hand through his damp hair, stretches his arms out at his side and spins. His feet don't touch the ground. Serah's laughter is somewhere around him. When he ceases, Alyssa has claim on her. They head over to Mog, who bounces on the drums, is unaware of the change of rhythm.

Noel takes a deep breath, thinks of time weary dust beneath his feet. He looks up. The flames are heavy on his gaze. His eyes then land on Hope who sits a few feet away from the flames, drink in hand, eyes fixated on Noel.

As their eyes meet, Noel can hear the thud of his heart above the drums.

* * *

The hunter approaches him, offers his hand and a warm smile. Hope averts his gaze. Eyes reflect the flames he stares into.

"I'm…" Hope mutters, words slur slightly, face flushed, "I'm not a dancer."

Noel chuckles, grabs the older man's free hand, wrenches him upright and tries not to think about how close they are. Hope drops the drink from bewilderment, mourns its loss with a brief glance, and looks back at Noel. His hand is clammy within Noel's grasp.

Noel twines their fingers together, beads on his bracelets twinkle softly. "Everyone can dance. C'mon."

He brings them closer to the fire. Few take notice of them. The drums seem louder than they were. Noel brings their joined hands to his chest. The flush on Hopes face grows. The drinks from before play with his head.

Noel smirks and steps back, fingers still intertwined. The drums begin their rhythm again and Noel moves around Hope, guides him with their joined hands. Thinks of time weary dust beneath his feet and moves.

He lets go of his hand, body still flows to the beat, and brings his hands to rest on Hopes waist. Hope watches him with wide eyes, doesn't make an attempt to stop him, despite less than graceful movements. Noel smiles again, before he brings himself closer to the other man.

Noel can only hear the sound of Hopes breathing. The drums echo in the air as they inch closer to each other. His fingers grip his waist harder. Noel feels the heat of his skin beneath the thin layers of his uniform. Hopes hands find their way to Noel's chest, bare fingers brush against his sweat-sheened skin.

The drums stop for a moment. They watch each other. The flames cast jagged shadows along Hopes face, neck, the lines of his clavicle. The air is silent.

The drums start up again. Hope pushes himself away from Noel and disappears quickly into the ruins.

Noel blinks, skin cold suddenly. He feels Serah's eyes on his back, doesn't make a movement to turn around. His instinct beats through him, feels the drums pound through his chest, itches to move his body. To Hope.

He takes a breath and follows.

* * *

The air is cooler as Noel ventures from the flames. He can hear laughter in the air, shrieks from Mog, utmost content. His mind stays on its focus as his feet leaves behind fragments in the dust. Find Hope. Find Hope and-

He doesn't know.

* * *

Noel runs a hand through his hair, lets the cool air rush through the strands. The drinks from before wear off slowly, the distance from the drums has brought him back to Pulse. His head feels light. His senses are dull. The hunter remembers how close Hope was to him, thinks his senses were more alive there.

He trails up the stone staircase. Hope leans against a stone pillar, one hand clutches his hair. The other forms a fist. Noel keeps his steps soft, careful not to ruin the other man's riviere. The moonlight highlights his features, Noel can't look away. He looks up as Noel approaches.

Noel stops. They watch each other for a moment.

"What.. was that?" Accusation. Confusion. Noel holds his ground. Takes a step closer. Hope doesn't move. The breeze is cool against his skin.

"Like I said, everyone can dance."

The strands of Hopes silver hair catch the moonlight, the glow the bonfire throws across the ruins. Hope straightens against the wall, a defiant slump in his left side.

Noel breathes. The air smells like sweat, like ash, like Hope.

He tries to think about what happens next.

He tries to think about how he moves closer into the other man, feel the hard lines of Hopes body against his own. Tries to think of when he pushes his knee between Hopes legs, a small rush through his veins at the sound of Hopes whimper. When his hands start at Hopes waist, trail up to rest firmly against his neck. The feel of Hopes hands on his waist.

Hope shifts closer to him.

Noel leans in.

* * *

Hope tastes like ash, the bitterness of the drink he held before, something Noel can't name yet he knows it's Hope. Undeniably Hope.

Their lips mesh together, Hopes grip on his waist almost painful. Noel brings a hand to rest on his jaw, tilts his head to the side, tastes him further. Soft sounds emit from Hope. Noel pushes further into him.

He's so warm. His skin almost burns underneath the layers of his clothes.

Noel brings his hands down to Hope's waist, lays his palms flat against his hips, feels the sharp jut of bone beneath his skin, the thin material of his shirt. He tastes the sweetness of his tongue. Hope grips him impossibly hard. Noel's fingers dance under the hem of his shirt. Calloused skin against the smooth expanse of his waist. Hope sighs softly.

The hunter commits this moment to memory. The intensity, the feel of Hopes mouth against his, how they seem to fit. The closeness of another human.

Hope.

He breaks away from Hopes lips, down to his jaw, his tongue against the salty trail down to his collar. A hand runs through Noel's hair, grips onto the strands, another low moan from Hopes mouth.

The fingers that trace the contours of Hope's abdomen leave a soft indent on his skin. They trail downwards until there is the sensation of coarse hair beneath his fingertips. Hope unconsciously pushes himself further into his touch.

Noel tears his lips away from Hopes neck, rests their foreheads together. Everything is still, silent except for the rhythm that beats in the distance. They breathe heavily for a moment.

His eyes meet Hopes. Allows himself to fall into line of azure around the blown pupil, sends questions with a single glance. Hope's hand travels to his cheek, fingers softly caress his warm skin. He closes his eyes, and nods.

Noel captures his lips again. His fingers continue.

* * *

In the distance, the drums carry on.


End file.
